Bellchime Trail
by xxkoffeexx
Summary: Mondays and Tuesdays were her favorite days of the week. WhitneyxMorty. Resistanceship.


Bellchime Trail

By xxkoffeexx

Summary: Mondays and Tuesdays were her favorite days of the week. WhitneyxMorty. Resistanceship.

Disclaimer: I don't own.

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Golden red leaves framed the blue sky above her, an eternity passing by until all she could hear were the rustling trees of Bellchime Trail. She lay stretched out on a bed of dry foliage, pink pigtails released from their ties in concession to the lazy afternoon. Her Pokégear was turned off. For once she felt like time was traveling at a speed she could actually keep up with.

"Can I live here?" Whitney asked suddenly, keeping her eyes on the sky. She went on without pausing, "Just kidding. I couldn't live in a shrine or tent. Not unless it had electricity and majorly cute wallpaper inside it."

When there was no response, she finally turned her head to look at her silent companion. Morty's eyes were closed, and he looked fast asleep. She knew better, though, and waited impatiently.

Sure enough, the reply came.

"Why are you here?"

Her gaze returned to the sky, voice airy and frank. "I'm sick and tired of the city. I was raised on a farm. All I ever knew were Miltank and green pastures. No PokéGear. No department stores. No radio towers. Just me, my family, and the farm. City life is fun, but a country girl like me needs to escape sometimes too, ya know?" She paused and her voice became hesitant. "Why? You don't want me here?"

This time the answer came sooner. "You can do whatever you want, Whitney."

She smiled. Calm and assured, that was Morty.

"What if I decided to live here?"

He shifted slightly; the leaves rustled like trickling water. "Being a hermit has its perks. But you might not have cute wallpaper. Or electricity, for that matter."

This time she laughed. Morty was probably the real reason why she came to Bellchime Trail. His calm and methodical presence made her feel true to herself. He was a complete gentleman too, which was a welcome change from the arrogant and temperamental guys she'd been with before. With Morty, there were no lies, no mind games, no uncertainties—with him she felt safe.

Her smile turned coy. "I could always live with _you_, Morty."

She could take risks with him, even dangerous ones. Hinting, playful, teasing. Whitney was all of these things, but she did it fully aware that _he_ would not take it the wrong way. They were good friends and nothing more.

He gave her a sidelong glance. "Even if I lived in a wallpaper-less tent?" he quipped dryly.

Just like that. Deflect it with humor. She laughed again, delighted with their game, and stretched out her body like a Persian across the leaves. One of her wayward fists bumped his shoulder, knowing he wouldn't mind, and then she sat up, foliage clinging to her back and hair.

Whitney looked down at him, and this time his violet eyes were watching her. For a startling moment, she felt her heart skip a beat and felt very glad that he was only a friend_;_ otherwise she be in trouble because his eyes were crazy beautiful and if he had been anyone but Morty, she would have fallen for him faster than her Miltank's Rollout. Maybe faster than that.

But he _was_ Morty, and she wasn't going to fall for him no matter what and that was that.

"I'd live anywhere if it was with you," she said half honestly.

His smile was faint and warm.

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No matter how crappy or absolutely exhausting the rest of the week was, the moment she woke up on Monday (and subsequently Tuesday) Whitney felt instantly happier. It was like back in school when the week would drag on slowly, but as soon as it was the weekend she felt like she could breathe again. The days she would go to Bellchime Trail felt like those weekends.

As soon as she stepped through the shrine onto the golden foliage, Morty would be waiting. For her or a potential rematch, she didn't know, nor did she care. She would greet him cheerfully with a bright visage that was not forced at all. The vague smile he offered in return and his quiet words that matched the rustling of the leaves felt like she had finally come home.

"How was your week?" she always asked him, genuinely curious.

He would relax against a tree or join her on a pile of leaves and tell her about the Gym, the city events, the reports from his friend Eusine, the night festivals, or even the simple matters of his room. Once he told her the paint on his wall needed a touchup.

"Oh!" She perked up. "I like interior decorating! If you've ever seen my Gym—" He made a dry sound which she blithely ignored, "—the color scheme and the furniture are all my brilliant idea. And I helped design the maze too."

"The Clefairy maze?"

"Yeah. Hey, you know about that?"

He shrugged. "I remember." Then he glanced sidelong at her and said, "Perhaps I can use your decorating skills for my room?"

Whitney couldn't, for the life of her, figure out if he was serious or joking. It was the way he said it with an expressionless face and a calm, unassuming tone. Often she practiced speaking like that in the Gym, but it wasn't the same.

She warned jokingly, "My expertise doesn't come cheap, Gym Leader. I'll have you know that I'm in high demand all over Johto and Kanto. I'm that good."

He was facing her, she could tell, even though she was looking toward the shrine. His hand reached up to brush her hair, and when she glanced up he was twirling a stray leaf between his fingers. Morty looked at her, violet eyes unreadable save for a hint of warmth meant for her.

"For you I'd pay as much as you want."

She ignored the rush of electric warmth spreading through her body, making her feel tingly inside, but could not stop the smile from spreading across her face. Whether he was flirting or honest, it didn't matter because it was one of the sweetest things any guy had said to her.

Whitney patted his knee gratefully. "Flattery won't get you a discount, but I'll give you one anyways because you're my friend."

"How generous." He flourished the leaf to her with mock ceremony. "Here is your payment, O Great Decorator."

She pushed him lightly into the leaves and laughed.

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She told him about her ex-boyfriend.

"Before he dumped me he used to tell me about how peaceful this city was," she remarked softly, leaning back on her palms. His shoulder lightly brushed hers, showing that he was listening. "He was aiming for the League, but he could never beat me. Finally he asked me out, and I said yes because I thought, why not? It could work out." Whitney laughed shortly. "We were together for about three months before he realized I wasn't what he was looking for, and he left. That was two months ago. I've been alone ever since. Thinking about it, he probably liked this place because of the Kimono Girls."

Morty didn't say anything. Whitney had started coming to Bellchime Trail about two months ago.

"It wasn't just him. All my past relationships ended with a broken heart, and that heart was always mine. I didn't understand it for the longest time. I thought I was too immature. Too irresponsible. Or just plain hopeless. Then I realized it wasn't just me, but every other woman in the world." She paused. "Except for the happily married ones. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Gah! You're one of the reasons why there are so many lonely and single girls like me," Whitney semi-joked, grinning at him. "How can we get a guy when all the decent ones don't want a relationship? It's a stalemate. A lose-lose situation."

He pointed out, "I never said I didn't want a girlfriend."

She blinked wide magenta eyes. "So you're actually interested? Wow, I didn't know you looked at girls that way. So why don't you have a girlfriend?"

When he only gave her a look, she blushed.

"Oh. You're in the same boat as me, huh?"

Morty kept his gaze on her as he smiled lazily. "I think I'm waiting for the right one." She ignored the way his voice elicited shivers down her spine and played with the leaves by her feet.

"You're really romantic, Morty."

He leaned back slightly. "Is that what you like in a guy?"

Whitney lifted a shoulder carelessly and flashed him an impish smile. "Why? Do you want some insider tips on what girls want in a guy? A female secret?" She leaned her cheek on her shoulder, pigtails loose and messy as she gazed up him. "Since you're my best guy friend, I could give you some insights on the mind of girls, free of charge."

The blond turned his gaze to the sky, but not before she caught an odd flicker in those violet orbs.

"Not girls, Whitney. Just you."

A long moment passed by as she outwardly struggled to synthesize his words, her eyebrows lowering in thought. Inwardly, she felt an uncomfortably familiar sensation brewing in her chest.

"You wouldn't be interested in my tastes," she finally laughed self-deprecatingly. "I'm a shallow, immature girl with nothing but hopeless dreams in her empty head."

"No," he turned to look at her again, and this time his eyes were very clear and confident. It was like he was looking straight into her soul. "You're strong."

Her pulse leapt erratically when his shoulder touched her arm and stayed there. The warmth from his body was like a ray of sunlight, and when she shivered not unpleasantly, warning bells shrilled in her head. Whitney cleared her throat.

"I like coming here," she said quietly. "It makes me feel peaceful and happy. And talking to you is so easy. I feel comfortable around you. You're one of the best guy friends I have, you know? Actually, I've already said that, huh?" Before he could respond, she stood up and stretched her arms, exhaling loudly. "Thanks Morty. I feel a lot better now. I should get going. I have some errands to do back at home and check on the Gym. See you next week!"

She hurried through the trail to the exit, telling herself she was not running away from anything.

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When she visited Ecruteak the following Monday and spotted Morty walking along the street, purple scarf fluttering behind him, Whitney stopped dead.

A lovely woman in kimono was walking beside him, a pale hand gracefully holding his arm.

Whitney didn't know how long she stared after them, or exactly when she began following them from a safe distance. She felt a strange curiosity buzzing in her head, pulling her towards the couple like a subtle magnetic force. They weren't a real couple, she could tell by the way they walked and kept a polite distance. But for some reason she was reluctant to disturb them, even though it was Monday and it was her usual appearance at Bellchime Trail.

It suddenly occurred to her that she'd been taking the trail, and her meetings with Morty, completely for granted.

More importantly, the unhappy feeling welling inside her like a swarm of Beedrill was most definitely jealousy. She childishly thought Morty belonged to her, and only her, when it was she who had disrupted his normal schedule. It was she who ditched her precious Gym every Monday and Tuesday in order to frolic in the leaves like a carefree child. It was she who treated him like a convenient friend, a safe guy who wouldn't dare to breach the barriers she put around her heart.

And it was Whitney who, despite all her denial and excuses, fell in love with him.

The realization came sharp and sudden, leaving her breathless for several winded seconds. Whitney felt relieved to have realized this atrocity before it was too late. She could still pull out with her dignity and heart intact. She wasn't in that far deep yet, thankfully.

She paused beside a lamppost, a hand unconsciously straying to her Miltank, who was resting in a Pokéball in her pocket. Whitney was a Gym Leader, first and foremost, and it was time she face her duties like one.

Without a backward glance, she headed back to Goldenrod.

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Two weeks passed. Challengers came and went. The Gym trainers remarked on how focused and dedicated their leader seemed lately. The pink-haired young woman smiled but didn't really say much.

On Monday the Goldenrod Gym was closed because Whitney wanted to do some spring cleaning.

"It's almost winter," one of the trainers pointed out.

"We don't have to wait for spring to clean, do we?" Whitney tied a handkerchief about her head and put on a pair of gloves. "Besides, I feel like the air's gotten musty. It's stifling." She grabbed a rag and started wiping the flower pedestals like her life depended on it.

The trainers collectively breathed in and exchanged glances. They had installed a new AC just last month.

A few hours later, as Whitney ordered a few girls to help air out the pink Clefairy rugs, a trainer approached her. She looked a little flushed and bewildered.

"The Ecruteak Gym Leader's here to see you."

Whitney didn't seem to notice the other girls stop in surprise. She felt remarkably calm. "Didn't you tell him the gym's closed today?"

"I did. I told him you were busy, but he said he would wait."

"Is he still out there?"

The trainer nodded. When a few girls began edging toward the gym door, Whitney snapped, "Don't even think about it. We still have lots to do today and we can't afford to stop for every visitor that comes. Come on, back to work everyone." The females muttered but obeyed, picking up the Clefairy rugs again.

"He's the _only_ visitor that came…"

Whitney ignored them and scrubbed furiously at a stain on the wall, annoyed that her heart was beating faster than usual. She was supposed to have gotten over him by now, but apparently two weeks was not long enough.

And what if, her heart whispered, you never get over him?

Frustrated, she threw the dirty rag down, making a couple trainers glance at her. The stupid stain wasn't going away no matter how much she tried to clean it. She would just have to paint it over.

"Where's the can of apricot peach paint we bought last year?" she asked one of the older trainers, Victoria. The fashionable woman pondered, tapping manicured fingers. Whitney remembered the Kimono Girl's white, elegant hand and felt another spike of irritation.

"I don't know. Maybe in the bathroom?"

"Why the heck is it in there?"

"Whitney?" The same trainer approached her, sounding a little breathless.

The leader sighed. "What? Tell him I'm not seeing anyone today. And find me the peach paint in the bathroom while you're at it, will you?"

"Why don't you tell me yourself?" a male voice replied coolly.

At the familiar voice, Whitney shut her eyes tightly before taking a deep breath. She turned around to see Morty standing several feet away, seeming incredibly comfortable despite the peach-colored walls and pink décor surrounding him. Behind him she noticed a cluster of trainers who should have been airing out the sofas but found the handsome blond slightly more interesting.

"Hey Morty," she smiled cheerily, making it a point not to hold his violet gaze for too long. "I'm really sorry, but the gym's closed today and I'm _really_ busy. The air's gotten musty and the walls need a touch up—"

"And you need a vacation," Victoria inserted calmly, inspecting her nails.

"—but you can call me later or something. You're probably really busy too, and I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing," finished Whitney, trying to appear calm and apologetic at the same time.

Morty didn't seem to care about her speech at all. "I'll wait until you're done," he said.

"Which will be never," Victoria informed him.

"Victoria," Whitney gritted her teeth, "weren't you going to find a can of paint or something?"

"Apricot peach paint actually," the trainer said airily. "But it can wait. Aren't you going to give him an answer? Or are you just going to do the old ignore-and-run tactic? Because I can hold him off for you, for maybe five seconds." The leader stared daggers at her and the other trainers stifled giggles.

"Fine." Whitney looked at him and said clearly, "I'm sorry, but I don't have time tonight either."

Some girl in the growing crowd called, "_I'm_ free tonight, Morty."

"Then I'll leave, if you want me to," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off her. "I'll leave now and never talk to you again. Is that what you want?"

"Yes." Then she paused. "No. That's not it. I just don't want to see you until I'm sure my feelings are platonic again. Being around you makes me so… it makes me feel…" She cast about for the right word.

"Flustered?" he suggested.

"Yes! And…"

"Nervous?"

"Yes."

"Happy?"

"Yes. Wait…" Her eyes narrowed at his faint smile. "How do you know all this? Actually, never mind. This is exactly what I _don't_ want to talk about right now. I don't know why you came here, but it doesn't matter. I'm fine. I don't need you to check up on me or anything. I'll get over it eventually—"

"No," he interrupted, moving forward for the first time. "I'd rather you not get over me. Because I feel the same way. I have for the past two months."

At least a dozen trainers, Victoria included, sighed dreamily.

Whitney stared at him warily, but his expression was solemn and honest. She felt her walls coming down gradually despite her best not to give in to his sincere words. She mustered her remaining resolve and crossed her arms.

"It won't work out," she said flatly. "We're both Gym Leaders and we don't have time for a relationship. It's impossible."

"We'll make time," he answered smoothly, stepping forward again. "I'll call you every day and visit you every week."

Whitney edged backward in order to keep her distance, feeling the stained wall at her back. "I'm terrible at relationships. You'll hate me before we've even had our first kiss."

He was moving forward more quickly. "We could test that out."

"_No_," Whitney blurted, wondering if she imagined the gleam in his eyes just now. She had never seen this kind of Morty before. Confident and self-assured, yes, but bold and unpredictable? And much to her chagrin, she didn't mind this side to the gentlemanly blond _at all_.

Victoria obligingly cleared the chair and cushion out of his way. Whitney realized she was running out of excuses fast and floundered desperately.

"I'm scared," she finally admitted.

This time he paused, just within touching distance. Morty looked at her carefully and she felt like that time they were sitting on the leaves and he was gazing straight into her soul. But this time, instead of running away, she stared back and allowed him to look.

"You're scared of me?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "I'm scared of messing it all up. As usual." Her smile was weak.

"It takes two to end a relationship," Morty pointed out. Then he smiled wryly. "And even if it didn't work out, we'd still be friends. I like you too much to hate you."

Whitney felt her entire body soar with relief. Those were the words she wanted to hear, and he had provided them. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would be okay after all.

"I thought you were waiting for the right one," she reminded, smiling at him a little shyly.

"I'm done waiting."

A laughter bubbled out of her. "You're so romantic."

Morty took this as a signal to close the remaining distance between them, his violet eyes slightly hooded. He reached up to gently tug off the cloth from her head, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. When she didn't object, save for the pretty blush rising in her cheeks, he tucked some errant pink locks behind her ear, away from her face. He tilted her chin up so that she was staring flush into his eyes, and when he lowered his head slowly, she felt her eyelids flutter shut.

He paused. "Do you hate me?" he murmured, warm breath washing over her lips.

"No."

"Good." And he kissed her.

Somewhere between the initial stars and the firm hand that cradled the back of her head, Whitney thought she could hear disappointed sighs and excited squeals, and a satisfied Victoria saying, "_Finally_." After that she didn't care to listen anymore.

When they were quite finished, and Whitney opened her eyes reluctantly, hands clutching his scarf, Morty was smiling at her. The sight of him up close took her breath away again and she wondered how a man could be so beautiful. She fell in love with him all over again.

"The real reason I came here," he reflected bemusedly, "was to ask if you would redecorate my room."

"Really?"

"It was an excuse to see you again. But I was serious about the redecorating."

Whitney smirked. "I charge a high price."

"And I'll pay as much as you want."

She could definitely see them working out. Any vestiges of doubt was erased from her mind as she gazed up at him.

"Mondays and Tuesdays with me at Bellchime Trail. That's your payment."

END

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A/N: Resistanceship and a whole lot of fluff. That's what happens when one starts spring quarter, apparently. That and a lot of romantic overdrive stored in my head.

Hope you had your fill of MortyxWhitney as I have. What should they do next, I wonder…? C:


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